


The Sweetest Thing

by katie_delaney



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Light Bondage, M/M, Masturbation
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-03-19
Updated: 2016-03-19
Packaged: 2018-05-27 15:46:26
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,201
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6290482
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/katie_delaney/pseuds/katie_delaney
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>I wrote this as mostly a bit of silliness for my friend, thought I'd share. Mostly just Harry but hints at Harry/Draco. Harry has a very personal relationship with his broomstick.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Sweetest Thing

Harry sighed in relief at the sound of Ron finally going to sleep, leaving him the only one awake in the dorm room. He’d been lying with his Firebolt and wand at his side, staring up at his drapes, impatiently waiting for his best friend to stop waffling on about Quidditch and resume his usual snoring.

He sat up and pulled the drapes around as quietly as he could, wincing as one of the pleats got caught on the rusty metal bed frame and made the most awful screeching sound. He froze for a second, but the steady breathing of his housemates continued and he exhaled again. Safely hidden behind his drapes he took his wand from his bedside table and whispered a silencing charm around his bed.

He kicked the covers to the end of the bed and shivered slightly against the cold night air of the castle, the embers of their fire having died down long ago. He ran his hand down his beloved Firebolt, feeling his hairs stand on end at the feel of the smooth wood that he knew would bring him release. Brooms had a mind of their own, everybody knew that, but Harry knew it more than most. He knew his broom became one with him when he flew; they moved together, Harry was sure he controlled the broom with his mind, not with the usual actions Madam Hooch had taught them in Quidditch practise. But more than that, he felt it become alive between his thighs, felt it pressing up urgently against him as he dived, sparking far more than just the pleasure of wrapping his hands around the snitch.

He felt the broom tremble under his touch and smiled to himself. He pushed off his boxers and took hold of his cock, which was throbbing hard and desperately, as it had been all day, begging for his touch. The broom shook impatiently next to him and Harry rolled his eyes fondly, giving it a reassuring pet as he slid his other hand down, muttering a lubrication spell under his breath. He nearly shouted out at the sudden feel of slickness, he could never really get used to that spell even though he’d used it countless times since Draco taught it to him. He wished he’d asked Draco if there was a way to warm up the lube first before casting the spell. Draco had long since fled the castle though, leaving Harry alone here, well, not really alone. He had his broom.

He slid his fingers inside and saw the broom levitate off the bed slightly in anticipation. He smirked, pushed his fingers deeper, gasping and trying not to hear the snores of his best friend drifting in through the curtain. He reached out for the broom with one hand, the other round his cock, slick from the lubrication spell. His hands were trembling as he guided it to his entrance, pulling his cheeks apart in a gesture so obscene it always made his cheeks burn crimson.

It was his turn to be shivering in anticipation. He trusted the broom, he did, they were one, and it always knew what he wanted, but he always felt a wave of nerves at the first feel of the silky smooth wood against his arse. He groaned as it began to push inside him and let go of his arse, his hands flying up to the bars of his headboard; he knew from experience that he was going to need something to hold on to.

He let out three little cries as it took him, inch by inch. It always seemed to know exactly how much he needed, where he need it…it started slow, coaxing his muscles open till Harry relaxed around it, hips slack against the bed, welcoming the increase in pace, and the way it began to buzz happily inside him, tickling against his prostate and making him bite back squeals. He knew he’d cast a silencing charm, but the thought of being so close to his roommates made the noises die on his lips.

He groaned as it took him higher, buzzing faster, making his hips spasm. He went to bring his hand down, wrap it round his cock and take himself soaring over the edge. He frowned when his hand refused to move, he tried again, found his hand stuck tight and cursed under his breath. The other hand was stuck fast too. Bloody broom. He should have known better than to let Draco Malfoy enchant it. He was mocking Harry for saying he felt a connection with it; said that he was starting to feel jealous…and then he’d muttered a few choice words over it before he left. The connection had significantly deepened since then. This had started to happen more often though, Harry was sure it was becoming more powerful, more independent.

He thrashed on the bed, almost squealing in frustration. Then somehow he knew what it wanted.

“Please!” he gasped. “Please please I need…”

It moved harder, faster, nearly making Harry see white before his hand came unstuck. It flew to his cock, stroking himself hard, desperate and frantic. He saw stars as he came, violent and hot over his clenched fist. The broom moved with him, hard as he fell over the edge, then slowing, gentle strokes, eventually pulling out and falling still on his sheets.

Harry gasped his breath back, his skin tingling and his chest still heaving.

When he’d cleaned himself up and composed himself he noticed the broom shuddering again. He knew what it wanted. He lay back on his pillow, lifted the broom to his lips and opened his mouth. Harry savoured the nutty taste of the wood, the slight roughness against his tongue, the way it just grazed the back of his throat. He tilted his head back willingly as it started to move more erratically in his mouth, letting it take another inch. It came, sweet and hot liquid pouring down his throat. The amber nectar Harry had got used to wiping from his skin. He gulped it down gratefully. It smelled like Honeydukes, like fudge and cotton candy and marshmallows…

He gently pulled the broom out of his mouth, wiped it down, and set it down on the side of the bed. He licked the remaining nectar from his lips, pulled his duvet up and over his shoulders, suddenly realising how chilly it was now the sweat had turned cold on his skin.

He heard Ron getting up and quickly took down the silencing charm.

“Harry?” he heard him whisper.

Harry stuck his head out of the curtain and did his best not to look fucked.

“Yeah?”

“You okay? Thought I heard one of the beds shaking.”

“Oh, sorry, I was just polishing my broom down for the match tomorrow.”

Ron rolled his eyes.

“Honestly, Harry, it’s nearly midnight, you need to get some sleep for the match! Never mind polishing that bloody broom!”

“Yeah, you’re probably right,” Harry said, yawning.

Ron frowned as he walked past Harry’s bed.

“Can you smell sweets?”

Harry shook his head innocently.

Ron shrugged and shuffled off to the bathroom in his slippers.

 


End file.
